


Breaking In

by SouthernMoonshine



Category: Havemercy Series - Jaida Jones & Danielle Bennett
Genre: Friendship, Gen, horse training metaphors, rookie airman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-10
Updated: 2015-09-10
Packaged: 2018-04-20 01:12:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4767956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SouthernMoonshine/pseuds/SouthernMoonshine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adamo decided it was a good thing Amery had taken the young man to hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breaking In

Adamo shoved the sheaf of papers at the newest, youngest, and probably most shocking recruit he'd ever had. "These need your signature."

Rook, standing in front of his desk, eyed the papers then pushed them back over. "Can't."

That was an unexpected answer. Adamo lifted his head again. "What?"

Rook rolled a shrug. Already a month in, he looked vastly different from the scrawny dirty teenager Amery had presented to Adamo as Havemercy's chosen rider. For one, he was clean. For another, he'd put on at least fifteen pounds; the hollows in his cheeks were filling out and he was no longer quite so pale. And he was starting to grow - likely all the food he was getting now. He'd shot up at least four inches, and his shirtsleeves were too short already, despite being new. 

"Can't fuckin' read, can't fuckin' write. Can make my mark but can't sign 'em," Rook answered, lifting his chin a little. His blonde hair, loose around his shoulders and free from dirty mats, drifted softly with the motion.

Those hard ice-blue eyes and challenging stare hadn't changed, Adamo thought, and likely they never would. Rook had apparently survived in Molly by taking the world head-on, and he wasn't taking to authority over him very well at all. Either he was outrageously defiant or skittishly wary, or a combination of both. Right now, Adamo decided, he was getting both: the raised chin and the glare, but also the shifting of weight, the uneasy curl of Rook's right hand like he wanted a knife in it.

"Well." Adamo should have thought of that beforehand. Of course Rook wouldn't know how to read or write. "I don't suppose I - ah. Amery. I have a task for you."

Amery raised a single eyebrow, face impassive. He'd ghosted past the door, peering in...apparently looking for Rook. Adamo didn't quite know what to make of it yet; his most aloof and quiet man aside from Ivory had taken to drifting by every so often and looking in on Rook. Whether it was to keep Rook out of trouble, or save everyone else from Rook, Adamo wasn't sure yet. Rook had a violent temper and a violent reaction to any provocation, but that was to be expected, given his upbringing. Or lack thereof.

Adamo scooped up the papers and offered them out. Amery came in with a quiet murmured politeness, and took the papers in a gloved hand. "Receipts, notices, and pension. Rook's. Read them and sign them with him."

Amery's eyebrows rose, and the startled look he turned on Rook was amusing. Rook glared back. "You can't read."

"Do I look like a fuckin' 'Versity bitch?" Rook returned, sharply. 

Amery subsided, but there was a frown line between his brows as he turned to go. Rook glanced between him and Adamo, decided he was dismissed, and followed Amery. There was a stiffness to his shoulders and spine that Adamo read as displeased with this situation...but not displeased enough to pitch a fucking fit over it.

Good. Adamo would not look forward to hauling them both to the medic bay again.

*

Two months in and Rook was tall as Ace, and rapidly filling out to cover the strong, heavy bones of his frame. Adamo hoped he was finished growing up, as he still needed to grow out, and it looked shabby for Rook's sleeves to always be about an inch too short on his wrists. He himself wasn't looking too shabby anymore. When Adamo passed him in the hall, he realized again the changes: clean and with his hair pulled back in a ponytail and his shirtsleeves rolled up and booted feet clomping on the stone floor.

It had been a while since he'd seen Rook barefoot on the flagstones.

Coming back from his office, Adamo heard music in the common room, and Rook swearing. He paused and peered in the door as the music stopped. Ivory leaned back from the piano, looking distinctly amused, as Rook crossed his arms over his chest and scowled at Amery. He was only lacking a few inches on the man, now, and the face-off looked more even than it first had. Amery merely sighed, and shook his head. "Come now, the dance is in two weeks, and you will be asked to dance."

"Fuckin' pointless shit." Rook curled his lip.

Patiently, Amery nodded. "Yes, but you will not make a poor showing. We are essentially presenting you for inspection, after all. You fly well as anyone, but we need to show the Esar that you are suitable."

Rook snorted a laugh. " 'Bout as suitable as a whore's purse in a lady's hand," he grumbled, but uncrossed his arms.

Ivory turned back to the piano, and began playing again. Amery started counting the beat, and held out his gloved hand. Rook heaved a sigh, grumbled a curse, and took Amery's hand. Adamo watched with amusement as Amery drilled Rook through the dance, and took the lady's part. For someone who hadn't had a dance instructor, or a governess, or been to any institution of learning, Rook was rapidly gaining ground on all the appropriate social skills. 

He was nowhere near suitable for presentation by polite society, but he passed Adamo's inspection readily. Though Molly-stubborn and fractious and lewd and explosive, Rook was trying. He was a brilliant fighter, with an instinct for the attack patterns that was nothing less than inspiring. His tactics left a little to be desired, but when it came to acute destruction - admittedly what the Dragon Corps were for - or impossibly daring raids for intimidation, no-one held a candle to Rook. He was utterly smitten with his dragon and was doing his best to do what he needed to do to stay with her and keep fighting.

Rook's face was resigned as he waltzed with Amery, and Adamo took himself off to his office before he laughed too hard.

*

The night of the dance, Adamo walked by the common room again, ready to depart. The carriages were here, after all. He paused, however, when he saw Rook and Amery in the commons. Amery was bent over Rook's sleeve, adjusting something, and Rook was fidgeting. It was, Adamo saw in a flash, not his usual ill-tempered squirming but a far more nervous shifting.

Amery straightened, laid his gloved hand on Rook's shoulder, and said something lowly that Adamo didn't hear.

In answer Rook's chin bowed, and he licked his lips, but his shoulders steadied and when he looked up again, he smiled with his usual careless arrogance. Adamo was struck by the response: it brought to mind memories of his father breaking cavalry horses for the army, and the bend of head and motion of mouth like a green-broke horse testing the reins and the bit for the first time.

It was not so much a confidence in themselves, but a confidence in the hand behind the reins that gave gave them bravery to step out.

As Adamo exited into the night air, hearing Rook's rough laughter behind him, he decided it was a good thing Amery had taken the young man to hand.

Adamo hadn't ever had the patience needed to break a young thing in gently.


End file.
